


Seasons of Love and Synchrony

by NightReaderEnigma



Series: Jaime and Brienne Week 2019 [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempt at Humor, Canon Compliant, Explicit Language, F/M, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Jaime/Brienne Appreciation Week, One Shot Collection, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-08 17:36:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 14,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20839397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightReaderEnigma/pseuds/NightReaderEnigma
Summary: A collection of my longer one-shots inspired by the Jaime and Brienne Appreciation Week prompts.Participating in this is so much fun!I always work within the realms of either Book Canon or Show Canon and POVs are either Jaime or Brienne.As always comments are appreciated as we continue to revel in JB Love!Collection now completed. :)





	1. Love-Stung

**Author's Note:**

> First is for the Seasonal Prompt of 'Spring'

“Ow, ow, ow!” Jaime squirmed as she brutally pierced his skin with the tip of her dagger. “No need for surgery Wench, last I checked you’re not a Maester.”  
“You oversized baby! If we don’t get the sting out, there is no chance of it healing.”  
“Maybe it will come out on its own.”

Brienne sat back on her heels, fixing him with her exasperated blue stare. “Make me understand… you lost your hand. You have fought in countless battles, sustained injuries and I myself have struck you several times. Yet a bee sting reduces you to a squirming little boy.”   
“It was a big bee.” Jaime defended himself. “And I swear it came straight for me.” 

She cast her eyes over the lush meadow, reigning in her temper as she watched the spring blossoms bounce in the breeze. “What were you doing anyway?”   
“Never mind.” The lion Lord had truly mastered the art of sulking like a petulant child. 

Her gaze fixed upon discarded wildflowers, dropped hastily as if during an insect ambush.   
She crawled from her spot to retrieve one, suspicion creeping in. “Did you collect these?”   
“Perhaps.”   
“Whatever for?”   
“I was giving them to someone. Primarily they were for the savage warrior maid intent upon maiming me with her blade.” 

“That’s….” She was lost for words. The last man to have brought her a bloom ending up throwing it at her. “…. very kind. I’m sure I would have liked them.”   
The timidity in her tone changed his persona and he offered her his arm once again.   
This time she gently squeezed the area with her nails, gently removing the tiny black barb. 

“There….” Brienne rubbed the sore patch gently, hoping to ease his pain.   
“You tend to me again. It is many times you have been my nursemaid.” His blonde lashes caught the sunlight as he rolled a blade of grass between thumb and forefinger. “You are very gentle you know…. your touch. It’s surprising.” 

Tilting her head to his arm, she pressed a soft kiss upon the welt.   
“I think we both surprise each other Ser Jaime.”


	2. Undeniable Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2 Prompt - Heat Wave  
So let's turn up the heat!

The deep cerulean pool at the base of the waterfall beckoned to her with an irresistible pull. The humidity had proven as relentless as the sun and her island home simmered beneath its rays. Perspiration dotted her skin and the relief as she pulled off her boots was enough to trigger a heavenly chorus. As she unlaced her undershirt, a familiar chuckle reached her ears. “You too wench?”

Her fingers froze in place as she turned to see Jaime swimming towards her, it was only now she noticed his clothes strewn on the opposite bank. His smile was wolfish. “Come on in the water’s fine.”  
“I thought I was alone.” Her irritability was amplified by the heat as she held the fabric closed across her chest. “I have been coming here since I was a girl, how did you find this place?”  
“It’s a small island.” He shrugged. “Though somehow you manage to do a fine job of avoiding me.”

It was true – she had been dodging Jaime’s company. Compelled by fear and compounded by the myriad of flutters he awakened inside her. Worry that her Father would be too astute and detect her true feelings for the golden knight. Her actions in ensuring the Kingslayer was offered safe haven in Evenfall has raised enough questions.

A rivulet of sweat wound its way down her temple, as her indecision subjected her to further sweltering. Jaime clearly took note.  
“Don’t torture yourself on my account. I was raised with some decency; I will avert my eyes.” He rotated in place, facing the cascading wall of water. However, the roar of its tumble was not enough to drown out his next comment. “Besides, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” 

Cowardice was not a trait to which she would succumb. Hurriedly, she removed the last of the layers and plunged herself into the cool liquid. The accompanying splash alerted her companion. “There, that wasn’t so hard now was it?”  
She ran her hands through her dripping hair, slicking it back from her face and pointedly ignoring his baiting.  
Her annoyance dissipating with the sweet caress of the cold waters against her flesh.  
“And now that I have you somewhat stuck here.” Jaime swam closer and she forced herself to stand her ground and not retreat from him. “You can finally explain why I haven’t seen you for more than a fleeting instant since our arrival.” 

“I am the Lady of Tarth. There are a lot of responsibilities I must take on my shoulders…..”  
“Horseshit.”  
His coarseness got her undivided attention. “Excuse me?”  
“You heard me. You know full well you are the only person I know on this sea rock. The only reason I came here was believing you had my back and instead you have abandoned me. Left me to my own devices.”  
She snorted. “You’re a big boy Ser Jaime. I’m sure you can look after yourself.”  
“Take your own advice.” He edged closer until they were inches from each other, her shyness overwhelming as he encroached upon her personal space. “You’re a grown woman….” His eyes penetrated hers in such a way, she was certain he could see into the farthest concealed reaches of her soul and the burning wants hidden therein. “….. surely you can make your own decisions about whom you spend your time with.” 

“I can…. I do.” She became tongue tied when she was nervous and her temperature began to climb sky high.  
Something about the searing intent in his gaze could have turned the liquid around them to a bubbling boiling pot.  
“Then prove it.” He challenged, wrapping his left arm around her thick waist and dragging her to him. His stumped wrist ran boldly up the exposed flesh of her thigh, coming to rest almost on her buttocks. The sensation of his ragged disfigured skin against her unexplored regions both titillating and forbidden. 

Wide eyed and startled, she slapped at the surface of the water. “Ser Jaime! You have no right….you…you’re not my husband.”  
Her voice lacked conviction; she knew he heard it. Rank and expectations obliged her to reprimand him, even though every fibre of her being pleaded for his touch.  
“Well I should be…. I honestly thought I would be by now.” His hand ran up her slick spine as his mouth explored her jawbone, stopping to suck droplets of liquid from her earlobe until she moaned his name. “Then you’d be mine and I’d have every fucking right.” The lion growled with desire, tilting her chin down towards his own. His green eyes reflecting the blue of the surrounding pool and giving them an ethereal depth. “Is that what you want?” He searched hers for answers and for the first time she appreciated he needed it spoken. For the culmination of a trillion little deeds to be vocalised in the simple utterance of her assent.  
“Yes, Jaime. I want this. I want you.” 

His lips traversed down the long pillar of her neck, bringing to life fantasies which she denied in the waking hours, as her lips parted in a sigh of fulfillment. The Lady of Tarth knew this was illicit and her father would be scandalised by her disregard for propriety, but she couldn’t muster the strength to care.  
“It’s you and I Brienne.” It was as if Jaime could read her thoughts. “Only you and I know what we mean to each other.”  
For the first time he brought his mouth to hers and she reciprocated, opening all the floodgates to her heart and twining her long fingers through his soaked mane.


	3. Off The Charts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What can I say? Heat Wave really inspired me! ;)

“Gods you’re pigheaded stubborn!” Jaime traipsed circles around her high on the battlements, the midday sun cruelly beating down from the clear azure sky. “One comment! One errant comment about ‘perhaps you should sit this shift out, it’s too hot’ and you become intent on turning yourself into roast heifer.” He swiped the beads of sweat from his forehead and puffed from the exertion of their argument.

“If the heat is too much for you Ser then I would suggest you head indoors.” Her vision was unflinching, trained dead ahead, resolute upon ignoring how her head began to swim and that the surface temperature of her armour was enough to pan-fry breakfast.  
“Why do you do these things to yourself?! What point are you proving?!”  
She glanced sideways at her painful companion, intent upon harassing her when she was already struggling. “Would you have told the same thing to the men?”  
“What?!”  
“You heard me _Lord Commander_, would you have relieved your men from duties simply due to a hot day?” __  
“Is that what this is about?”  
“I will be treated no differently Ser. I will accept no leniencies. I am your equal and expect to be treated as such.”  
“You are an obstinate half-wit. That’s what you are!”

Brienne did not deign to answer. Her metal prison was becoming a furnace, the perspiration she felt running beneath her layers of plate and padding doing little to cool her down.  
She knew Jaime was ranting at her but his voice had slurred to become a low drone. _He has the energy to talk, he is not in mail._  
She blinked slowly, deliberately as the world began to warp in and out. __

__ __ “Brienne….” Her name was being called, it drifted to her as if from a distance.  
Garbled slightly, slow in motion, as though communicating under water. _My brother and I tried that once….._  
The sensation of falling was the last thing she recalled. 

_ _ * * * _ _

_ _ Cool puffs of air licked against her skin in a delightfully refreshing way. Her flesh felt clammy but the wetness doused the burning.  
Her pores emitting heat that the liquid pacified. As she came to, her awareness returned, followed by her senses. One by one they tuned back in to the present. __

____ Smell – crisp linen and sea breezes.  
Taste – water upon her tongue, warding off dehydration.  
Sight – her eyes wanted to remain closed, but she cracked them open just enough to get her bearings. Through her lashes she glimpsed the open balcony doors of an easterly facing bedchamber, the curtains drifting on the currents as they wafted through.  
Sound – The rustling of the same fabric, the dripping of water…. Another person’s breath besides her own.  
Her pulse sped up rapidly. 

_ _ Touch – A soft damp cloth was being dragged up and down one of her long arms. Trailing behind it that blessed coolness which she had rejoiced in just before.  
Then skin on skin contact as a hand pressed to her chest, feather light as it rested upon the accessible flesh afforded by the V-neck of her undershirt. The hand moved again, alighting upon her forehead, before being replaced by the cool rag. _ _

Brienne tried not to tense at the idea of being touched. Now realising that her armour must have been stripped from her body and that she had been lifted to where she was lying.  
Who was nursing her? A Maester? A ladies’ maid?  
“Mulish wench.” Jaime’s familiar tones were hushed. “I cannot wait to say ‘I told you so.’”  
The cloth was dipped again, she heard the splashes as one-handed he wrung it of excess moisture. This time he swiped it down her neck and as he did, the back of one of his fingers brushed the same trail. It almost made her quiver. 

She had never been touched by someone this intimately. Most certainly not a man.  
Brienne contemplated letting her eyes fly open and putting a stop to this whole exercise. _But Jaime is caring for me… _  
Identifying who tended to her oddly made all the difference. An exception being drawn as she acknowledged his presence.  
How many years had she secretly yearned for Jaime’s affections?  
The golden knight so impressively handsome that she had long since resigned herself to the fact that he would never look at her in a romantic light. But still, the feeling of his hands caressing her body was intoxicating. The capacity did not matter, it was reality and she was loath to put an end to it. 

He turned his attentions to her other arm and she luxuriated in the journey the washer took from her shoulder to her wrist, savouring every electrifying instance when his flesh met with her own. Sizzling at the conjoining of her scorching surface with his attentive soothing ministrations.  
Brienne’s breath hitched when he discarded the rag, long enough to stop and stroke the back of her hand.  
“Are you alright My Lady?” His voice was laced in concern and she could almost picture the well-known furrow of his brow. “I should never have let you go out there.” 

This was a different Jaime to the one who goaded her, taunting and teasing until she grit her teeth in frustration.  
This man she had only glimpsed once or twice. When he yelled ‘Sapphires’ or paid her compliments on her eyes.  
Her closed lids beheld a silhouette passing over her as he leant close, gliding his lips over her burning forehead in a kiss so sweet she began to question if this was all a fever dream.  
“Come back to me Brienne…. Yell at me. Chastise me. Vex me. Just let me hear your voice.”  
Then a pause, as she felt his nose in her hair, inhaling in her scent. She did the same, taking a deep breath in, allowing her senses to be consumed by the closeness that was Jaime.  
The man she loved but had convinced herself she would never have. 

“Will you not show me those eyes? Let me know they aren’t lost to me. For many a time I have become lost in them.”  
She knew his face was inches from hers. Perhaps he had noticed the change in the rhythm of her breathing.  
_Then he knows I am conscious, yet he is still talking to me in this manner…._  
He pecked the tip of her nose and she had to halt the smile which would have given her game away. 

____ “Brienne….” Jaime calling her by name was honey and melody. An informal closeness, implying attachment which made her heart soar. “Or should I say Ser Brienne. Or My Lady. No wait – neither sound quite right. How about My Brienne?”  
At this her cerulean orbs flew open, to find his viridescent eyes staring back at her. He smiled coyly, processing that she had indeed heard every word.  
Swallowing her debilitating shyness and fear of rejection she located her voice locked deep within her throat. “I will answer to that.”  
The Maid of Tarth conceded, disclosing to him far more than just her acceptance of a new title. 

__ This time he brought his lips to hers and the heatwave outside held not a candle to their love’s inferno._ _


	4. Bare All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is for the Day 3 Prompt - Vacation  
(I have several ideas for the two prompts for today so stay tuned!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains coarse language and inappropriate humour, all intended good naturedly

The Water Gardens were like an oasis in the desert. The crisp clear waters contrasting against the amber desert sands.  
“What exactly do we wear?” Brienne enquired. Their affable host had invited them to join in the carousing after afternoon tea.  
She watched the uninhibited men and women (presumably noble bastards and paramours) cavort merrily in their all-together.  
“Why the bathing suit you were born with.” Lord Martell replied.  
He pushed his strides down past his hips and she quickly averted her gaze, beside her Jaime guffawed at her discomfit.

“Husband….” She spoke through gritted teeth as she witnessed more male flesh in a single space than she had over her entire lifetime. “….. this is not my scene.”  
“My shy sweet woman.” He teased, sucking ardently on her shoulderblade.  
She shook him off roughly, the carefree Dornish air was making him friskier than usual. “I would rather keep you all to myself anyway.”  
“I will make our excuses, claim the fare is not sitting agreeably in our stomachs…” She trailed off as she observed her husband struggling with his laces. “Jaime! You are not thinking of joining in.”  
“Whyever not? It is fucking hot and I have nothing to be ashamed of. Why I’m quite certain my body is better than most here.”  
She shook her head in disbelief. _How must it feel to be that confident?_

He succeeded in removing his shirt and she tried not to let her breath audibly catch as she drank in the sight of his chiselled muscles and perfect flesh, the occasional scar only adding to his rugged appeal.  
Then an idea dawned on her. “You are certainly braver that I Ser, displaying your fine physique so brazenly –“ She kissed him chastely on the cheek and murmured in his ear. “-Remember the Dornish are a lustful breed and I will not be here to defend your virtue.”  
He instantaneously tensed as she triumphantly strolled away.


	5. Captivation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More inspiration Strikes for the Day 3 Vacation Prompt  
A big thanks to anyone out there who continues to read my ficlets - I am really loving writing them so I hope someone enjoys reading them.

Jaime strolled through the atrium of the private guest house which they had been permitted for the duration of their stay in Sunspear.  
The open design lay far from main buildings and allowed the couple privacy. He appreciated the consideration – everything about the Dornish atmosphere seemed to have a sensual undercurrent.

“Brienne!” The lion called to his wife, boots clicking against the marble floors. _I wonder if they sourced it from Tarth….___  
“My love! Are you in here….” He lost his train of thought as he came across his woman, strewn indolently on a chaise lounge deep in sleep.  
She had yielded to the persistent heat, trading her leathers and mail for a dress more traditional to the region, sheer in fabric and flowing loosely around her long limbs.  
An open book rested face down upon her breast and her other arm draped protectively around the beginning swell of her pregnant stomach.  
It was such a rare sight for her - one of freedom, femininity and liberty.

Jaime licked his lips as he absorbed every detail. The rise and fall of her chest and its sprinkling of freckles, each one well explored and considered a friend to him.  
The scars of bear claws, her badge of honour, generally concealed beneath her layers of modesty.  
An extended ivory leg peeked out from one of the splits in the fabric, tempting his eyes to trace its lengths and let his mind wander to mimicking the action with his tongue. 

Unable to resist any longer, he bounded over to make himself a part of the living work of art that was his wife.  
“Jaime…” Brienne sighed his name as she was inundated with kisses, bringing her long fingers to either side of his face and scratching them through his beard as her lips and thighs both parted to welcome her husband. The tome slipping and falling to the floor, its place marker long forgotten. 


	6. Bed of Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My last Vacation Prompted Ficlet for Day 3 :)

“The Patient Weaver variety is denoted by multiple layers of silky textured petals….”  
The warm afternoon sun filtered through the glass panels of the greenhouse making it deliciously warm. Jaime stifled an over-exaggerated yawn which was answered by a painful jab to the ribs. “Ow!”  
“You are being impolite.” Brienne growled her warning in hushed tones.  
“Fifty-seven fucking varieties of roses! I can’t be expected to stay awake, this gardener is the cure for insomnia.”  
“Highgarden have been gracious hosts. I would not do to insult them.”  
The lion scoffed. “This endless tolerance wouldn’t be because precious lover-boy Renly declared himself King here would it?”  
Her glower cautioned that he was teetering on the edge. “You say 'lover' but strangely when I surrendered my Maidenhood, I do not recall him being in the room.”  
“Correct. If he had been it would have been my chastity and not yours that was in danger.”  
This time he sidestepped the blow with a second to spare. Somehow their guide was so enrapt in his blooms their bickering went unnoticed.

Changing his tact, he tried to get his woman on side. “What do you say I distract him – you take Oathkeeper, decapitate all these roses and we make a break for it.”  
Amusement flitted across her face, miniscule and almost indiscernible but still there. “You’re despicable.” She listened on regardless of his efforts, conveying an air of polite attentiveness. Jaime could no longer feign even mild interest. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, envying the freedom of a bee which buzzed passed on rapidly flitting wings.  
The small space suddenly seemed suffocating and the pungent perfumes which pervaded the air began to make his head swim. 

“When identifying a Pale Daybright from a Moon Kissed Dew – it is important to remember that the leaves have fundamental differences….”  
“This isn’t how I pictured our vacation.” He grumbled.  
“Believe it or not, this isn’t exactly thrilling me either.” 

Triumph seized him. He had noted the distinctive scowl cross her face whenever she looked directly at a full-blown rose.  
“Steal away with me.” Jaime suggested, allowing excitement to enter his tone. “He won’t even realise we’re gone.”  
“And where would we go?”  
“The bedroom.” He nudged her suggestively. “The one place they can’t find us and then we can have a real holiday.”  
He watched duty and desire wage a conflict across her easily readable features.

“And as we enter the next room we begin with the miniature varieties…”  
“Seven Hells there’s more.” She muttered her displeasure before fixing him with her sapphire eyes, more beautiful and diverting than any of the prized buds. “Deal.”

He wasted not a second grabbing her hand as they dashed for the exit.


	7. Shades of Transition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is for the Day 4 Theme - Fall/Change  
I was hit with inspiration this morning but don't have much time to proofread before Day 4 is over, so please forgive any mistakes.  
This tale is very much a fusion of both books and show.
> 
> Once again, thank you to those who are reading! Halfway through JB week and I still have more in store!

Jaime slowly ambled along the banks of the Trident, litter crunching beneath his feet, arm interwoven with the tall, proud woman beside him.  
The surrounding woodlands a palette of autumnal colours, as the world held its breath, once again preparing itself for the transition to winter.  
In the vast fields beyond the cover of trees, harvesters hastily gathered their crops, giving thanks for a bountiful Summer as the green eked out of the foliage and hillsides.

The lion had seen this process many times, his golden mane now dominated by silver and more than just a handful of crinkles erupted at the corners of his eyes when he smiled.  
But the contentment he had acquired in the end was worth it – every line formed by stress or frowns, each scar obtained in battle and brawl.  
Especially the one upon his forehead – his Maiden’s Gift. 

The last time Fall greeted Westeros, it was Jaime who was changing. A crippled lion who lost his paw and stumbled to find his new identity. He was no longer too proud to admit, that without Brienne he would still be floundering. Stripped of all preconceived beliefs of his own worth and purpose. In her ideals he had found meaning again, in their oaths a reason to fight and ultimately in her presence the fulfilment of true love which he had always desperately craved. 

Brienne’s own journey came later than his, echoing his tale of personal struggle and denial. Jaime had adapted faster, borne on the wings of wisdom acquired through his considerably more senior years. An awakening to self-acceptance, unlocking the key to surrendering, acknowledging who you are and who you’ve been and rising above it.  
Allowing yourself to be loved. 

Of course it wasn’t easy – Jaime’s self-loathing had been extensive and yielding was not a trait inherent to warriors. But by the end he adored her with such completeness that the choice had been simple – continue to berate yourself for the crimes of your past and deprive yourself of this chance at happiness or move past it and embrace the time you have been gifted. 

But the core of their unease was fundamentally different and this also contributed to the timeframe required to overcome their demons.  
Jaime’s hesitance stemmed from a belief he was not deserving.  
Brienne’s reluctance was based on a deeply veined conclusion that she was unlovable.  
Behind everything must be a joke, scorn, mockery. Nothing was genuine or true, it couldn’t be – she was grotesque.  
Jaime had made it his personal mission to overcome that. 

Dozens of shades painted the leaves clinging to life upon the branches or carpeting the path on which they walked. Each tone a moment in time captured, transient and unique. He could see their metamorphosis, just as he had watched her own. 

Green – his Maid of Summer. Contriving a poorly orchestrated lie as her way of getting him to follow her.  
Never for a moment considering if she had just asked for his help - he would have come. 

Orange – the firepit of the Red Priest, bouncing off the stone walls of the cave as they sat amongst the carnage.  
Ideology shattered and vows broken with the swinging of a Valyrian blade, severing the neck of the woman she once served. The agony of failing to save her young squire.  
“Where do we go from here?” She had asked desolately.  
“We keep our promises and find the Stark girls.”  
“We?”  
“We’re in this together now Wench. Just try and stop me.”

Amber – Even the sun shone differently in Essos. The unexplored world foreign and intriguing to the newly made nomads as they traversed the major cities following the faintest trail of Arya Stark. The radiant light had caught in Brienne’s flaxen hair, illuminating it in such a way you would be forgiven for considering it a halo. Without conscious thought he had reached out and toyed with a strand, confiding realisations to her even as she stiffened, steeling herself against the gesture. “You know – when the beams ignite your eyes and hair like that – you are truly enchanting.”  
She had flung his hand away roughly. “Don’t patronise me with false flattery. It rings hollow and insults us both.”

Brown – the hard cold dirt ground became their bed, when resources ran short on their way to Braavos. Opportunities to sell their swordskills scarce as Winter settled across the Eastern land. They had only one fur to share, yet still she maintained a foot of space between their forms.  
“Brienne….” He held out his arms. “….come closer. I don’t bite. It’s freezing.”  
She begrudgingly relented, making the justification well known. “Only because it is practical Ser.”  
Her body was like a block of ice as it fit against his own, trembling and tensing when he wrapped himself around her.  
Over the course of weeks, in her state of sleep they would come to cuddle, Jaime waking with her nose buried into his neck, or her leg draped across his own.  
He treasured those moments.

Sepia – the eyes of Arya Stark. She went by many names now. The young assassin surprisingly keen to return to Westeros and unleash her path of bloody vengeance.  
“We will sail back by way of the Eyrie.” Brienne declared. “Just to be certain.” 

Golden – Reuniting two sisters and the glow of vows fulfilled. A genuine smile a rarity to cross Brienne’s serious features as she watched them embrace.  
Like a rainbow, it disappeared nearly as quickly as it manifested. “Our oaths are now complete. Obligation no longer ties us. We may go our separate ways.” Her voice was flat and matter-of-fact.  
“May I enquire as to your plans?”  
“I am heading North. We have both heard the rumours – the war to end all wars, a threat to all life as we know it. That seems a noble cause.” She turned her head to regard him. “And you?”  
He bowed slightly. “Where you go, I go My Lady.”  
Although she quickly looked away, Jaime chanced to imagine he saw another upwards twitch at the corners of her mouth. 

Red – The road North was long, icy and bitter. Comforts a concept long forgotten.  
Slumbering embraces, became waking nuzzles as they rubbed against each other, seeking friction and relief.  
It was both ecstasy and torture for a man madly in love and a woman who refused to accept his feelings.  
His desire made him bold enough to seek her lips and his veins ran hot when she reciprocated.  
“We trust each other don’t we Ser Jaime?” Her eyes were a deeper blue in the fractured moonlight.  
“Of course.”  
“I expect nothing of the future. It is a grave reality that soon our lives are forfeit.”  
“Always the optimist, aren’t you?” He had caressed the line the rope noose burnt into her neck.  
“I should like to – share this experience. If it please you.” She brought her long legs to either side of him, muscular thighs pressing against his hips. “For warmth and what pleasure they say it can provide.”  
“You have doubts it is enjoyable?” He chuckled as he nosed her cheek.  
“I cannot know – I have no experience nor comparison.”  
A vermilion flower became the sole bloom in the wintry landscape as Jaime valiantly endeavoured to show her just how rapturous their love could be. 

Russet – Blood and mud intermingled, splattering their exhausted forms as they collapsed against Winterfell’s walls. Gore encrusting their twin blades as they snatched breaths and tried to process that they lived. Or rather – that they had kept each other alive.  
Jaime crawled over to her, through the severed limbs and undead bodies, thankfully now immobile, never to rise again. His hand moving erratically as he checked her for injury, for if he lost his mate now, he would simply fall upon his sword and needn’t see another sunrise. Brienne's large hand cupped his face as the other stilled his fussing. Her teeth the only thing clean and gleaming as she gifted him with another of those rare smiles. “I’m alright.”  
He should have reassured her the same way, let her know he was fatigued and aside for a few surface gashes, mainly uninjured. Instead he could only conjure one phrase.  
“I love you.”  
Even in the aftermath of all this death and destruction, she glanced away from him, refusing to believe his words. With her still commanding control of his left hand, he raised his stump instead (his golden prosthetic lost amidst the chaos), turning her by the chin to stare him in the eye. “Don’t look away Brienne. I mean it. It’s real. I love you.”

Rust – “Now what do we do?” She scraped tarnish from her armour as they sat in the small hut, somewhere South of the Neck but North of King’s Landing.  
They had just learned that whilst they defended the realms of men, the War for the Iron Throne had been decided. Aided by dragons and a young woman trained in the faceless arts. Their swords could be sheathed – peace reigned.  
“We get married.” Jaime suggested. “It makes sense. We have been rutting like rabbits and I sincerely wish to call you mine.”  
A shadow crossed her face accompanied by a scowl he would not expect from a woman receiving a proposal. “That is painfully unnecessary Jaime. I am yours of my own choice and volition. I will not be owned.” With that she stomped from the shack and slammed the door with such force the windowpanes shook. 

Mahogany - For over a year she had thwarted his endeavours to make her his wife. Arguing, raging, even challenging him to a duel where he had been dismally defeated.  
The late spring breeze flowed through the open balcony door at Evenfall. In a last ditch attempt at persuasion, he had called a meeting with her.  
Goblets of wine sat beside them as they faced off. One stump and three hands resting open palmed against the deep wood of the table. A set of fingertips touching to maintain their connection, the other rubbing a thumb over his scarred wrist.  
“What if we have children?”  
“Do you see me as a Mother? It would be selfish to inflict me upon a child. I am disagreeable, lack tolerance and it would be a crime to pass on this face.”  
“Brienne – that is simply untrue.”  
“All I am is my physique, my skills as a warrior. You would ask me to destroy my body and become a brood mare?”  
“You are more than just a fighter Brienne. Like I was more than just my hand.”  
“You are more – you are a history of greatness, a lineage of pride, a savior of the smallfolk. A face that makes even a Septa swoon and deserve more than to be shackled with a beast like me because of some obligatory sense acquired when we were both held prisoner.”  
“Do not say that! How many times must I tell you?! How many experiences must we share?! I know you are stubborn but Seven Hells Brienne, if you cannot accept that I love you more than life itself I don’t know what more I can do to make you see…. I’m desperate for it wench. To call you my wife. Not for ownership, possession or control. But because I am proud of you, I don’t want to lose you and perhaps just maybe – I need you to accept me. To feel secure. To belong.”  
Realisation dawned in her sapphires and Jaime knew this time she had listened. 

Sienna – “Open your eyes.” Her voice was deep as she removed her hands from his face.  
The summer night dark but for the firelight of sconces bouncing through the open windows.  
It gave a homey atmosphere to the earthen bricks and mortar of the small Sept, nestled in the island countryside.  
“What is this?” Jaime breathed and she muffled the question with a kiss.  
“I was hoping that you’d marry me….” Lengthy fingers were run through his blonde and greying hair. “You cannot simply remain the Lady of Tarth’s paramour forever.”  
As she lead him to the open doorway, for the first time in his life, the lion felt complete.

Fawn – “Jaime….” His wife’s lips formed words and sighs, struggling to hold a coherent conversation as he delighted in providing distraction. Their cotton sheets cool upon first entry to their bed but soon scorched with their passions. He felt he was made to be a husband, the last six turns of the moon had proven it. “…. I have a confession and a request.”  
“Name it.” He picked up her speckled hand in his own, kissing her palm. “You know I’d give you anything and what can you possibly have to confess? You can’t get away with much, we spend almost every minute together. For better or for worse.” He laughed, knowing they still so often grated on each other’s nerves.  
“I stopped drinking my Moon Tea.” At this he paused, air held in his lungs. Deliriously hopeful of what phrase was to follow. “Will you place a child in me?”  
With this simple wish Jaime knew that her soul had found contentment. 

“Look at this!” Brienne exclaimed, breaking from his arm and walking as swiftly as her heavily pregnant stomach would allow. Jaime to this day still marvelled at the unbelievable length of her legs, affording her such massive strides. “This seems rather familiar, don’t you think?”  
“Our travelling party is waiting…” He chuckled and shook his head.  
Their trek through the Riverlands would end coincidentally at Harrenhal – Arya having been gifted the incredible stronghold for the role she played in the Southron War.  
The youngest Stark had the castle refurbished and was holding a celebratory feast, completely undeterred by the rumours of curses which had plagued the castle’s former occupants. She and those walls had a history - or so she proclaimed - and Brienne shared a similar opinion. Jaime had his doubts about the length of the journey for his wife in her delicate condition but knew better than to argue when she insisted. They had joined forces with Gendry Baratheon from Storm’s End to make the voyage - first sailing to Maidenpool and then trading their seafaring vessels for River Galleys. Upon reaching the beginning of the Red Fork, they were about to commence their leg over land. 

“Wait for me Wench!” Jaime jogged and found himself at the end of a long stone bridge. Brienne already halfway across and leaning against the edge.  
“Recognise it Kingslayer?” She teased, lowering herself down with an exaggerated groan. “Oh, I need to rest.”  
“Get up.” The exchange was tinged with humour, he knew exactly what she was doing.  
“But I’ve been marching around like a common footsoldier wearing the same shit boots for over a year.” She gazed up at him towering over her, blue eyes alight with good-natured teasing as she rested her arms upon the swell of her belly. “Gods you were painful back then. Come to think of it you’re not that much better now.”  
He bent down to kiss her, a far cry from the scraping of steel which resonated around them in this spot upon a long autumn years prior.  
“I suppose so, my love.” Jaime acquiesced, awakening those tell-tale crinkles around his eyes. “Perhaps some things don’t change that much afterall.”


	8. For You I Would

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 5 Theme is Winter/Cold so here it is!  
Once again I drafted it quickly so apologies for any errors.  
This is a little 'in your face' nod to that courtyard speech. When you start listing deeds, Jaime & Brienne win everytime! :) 
> 
> I would like to take a moment to thank everyone who has taken the time to read and comment.  
You have no idea how much every single comment leaves me floating on cloud nine!   
I will reply to them all once JB Week craziness is over! (I'm still very much in creative mode and typing like crazy)

She was avoiding him. Jaime didn’t have to be the most insightful man in the world to figure that out, nor the most intelligent.

When he awoke warmer than he had been in months, in the former Maid of Tarth’s sleeping furs, the festivities of the previous night had all come flooding back to him.   
And even more vividly the events after. Not all too surprisingly, he had found the bed beside him empty; Brienne having stolen from the room long before he’d woken.   
But signs of her were everywhere in that chamber – her minimalism and her practicality.   
It was in the manly garb meticulously laid out before the modesty screen, the whet stone and spare pairs of boots by the door.   
It was in the way that barely a womanly trinket adorned the nightstand, just a simplistic brush and a cake of hard lye soap.   
Most of all it resonated in the roar of the fire, burning strongly as it had the previous evening, diligently tended, with no sign of faltering.  
Jaime had thrown back the covers and dressed, keen to find and speak with the Lady Knight before they could allow the awkwardness to fester and destroy their scintillating rapport.

He searched for her in the dining hall, the battlements, the armoury. The practice yard, the great hall, even the corridor outside Lady Sansa’s chambers. All to no avail.   
The days were still short and all too soon darkness crept over the castle. A chill wind rose and the snow began to fall heavily from the sky.  
Most of the castle inhabitants had slumbered the daylight hours away, shaking off various aftereffects of hangovers. Slowly like ants out of woodwork they reassembled, drawn by the promise of food and hair of the dog. Jaime watched them file in, milling about, filling plates with fare but still he did not glimpse the familiar blonde, standing a head and shoulders about the rest.   
Resolved to find her he donned his fur-lined cloak, ready to venture out into the blistering cold.   
He had not rested; he did not care. He had not eaten, it seemed irrelevant.   
All he wanted was to see her again and as each hour ticked by his mind began concocting more and more wretched outcomes.   
Convincing himself he would never be blessed to have those great blue marbles stare at him in her uniquely innocent and faithful way.   
Never again taste her mouth as he had, never be granted permission to touch her ivory skin.   
The impact of it all hit him hard. How much he cared. How much he yearned. It both rattled his soul and infused him with conviction.

As Jaime struggled with the fastening of his clasp, he was tapped on the shoulder.   
Turning around his hopes leapt sky high, only to find Podrick standing before him. “Who you seek is guarding the remains of the Eastern Gate - Ser has been there all day.”   
He sighed, visibly relieved – it wasn’t her, but at least he knew where she was. “Thank you Pod.”   
The lad nodded and disappeared into the throngs of people. 

By now the wind was howling, a frenzied mass of snowflakes, plunging the temperature to beyond freezing.   
Jaime did not let it hinder his progress, if anything it made him more determined to reach her, to summon her back to shelter, heat and his waiting arms. 

He found her shivering, knee deep in snow. Eyes trained upon the gaping hole in the portcullis of iron.   
Her gloved hand encrusted with ice crystals, almost frozen in place to Oathkeeper’s hilt.   
Jaime was able to draw near before she noticed him, the footsteps heralding his approach swallowed by the wailing gales.   
She cast him a furtive glance over her shoulder, before returning her gaze to the gate.

“Tell me you are not out here on my account.”   
He saw her swallow, her lips chapped and rough, whereas the previous night they had been smooth and supple. Plump and swollen from their kissing. “Many guards were not fit for duty today. I took their shifts.”   
“In order to avoid me.”  
“Not everything is about you.”  
He couldn’t help but tease her a little. “My Lady you know how I hate to contradict you, but I believe in this scenario it is.”  
She whirled on him in aggression and he was glad to see she still managed to have fire in her blood, even in these conditions. “Have I asked you for anything? Have I held you to any commitments? We are individual’s Ser Jaime and I know as much. If I choose to stand guard that is my concern.”   
“And if I choose to come and tell you when you are being a stubborn idiot then that is my choice.”   
“Let me lay your mind to rest, if it will put an end to whatever this is-” She gestured at his presence. “You are not obliged to me Ser. I am aware. So spare me whatever, ‘it was an alcohol fuelled mishap’ let down speech you have prepared and then we can both be on our way.”   
“You think that is why I sought you out? To tell you it was folly?”   
“Why else?”

This was not how he had pictured doing this, divulging the epiphanies of his heart. But when had he and Brienne ever done anything in the conventional place or in an ordinary manner?   
“Because there comes a time when you must ask yourself - how do you know what a person means to you. Is it what they bring? Or more what you’re willing to give?”   
He sighed, his breath bursting forth puffs as it hit the icy air. “I spent years thinking I understood what love was. Now I know I was miles away from comprehending and what it takes to finally see it plainly is a comparison. When you experience love in its true form. A person in love doesn’t demand things from you or require you to prove yourself. No - instead you find yourself just wanting to give to them. Without a moment’s hesitation.” 

With trembling fingers he unclipped the clasp which held his cloak around his shoulders, Brienne watching on in horror as he removed it, draping it around her instead. Adding another layer, shielding her from the biting winds even as he shivered. “Jaime what are you doing?! You will freeze.” 

His tone stuttered but he had proved his point, he had her attention.   
“My Lady if you were cold, I would give you my cloak.   
If we were starving in the dead of winter and there was no food, I would go hungry.  
If there were not resources to sustain us both and we faced inevitable death, I would walk out into the blizzard to spare you from that grisly fate.”   
He stepped closer, snowflakes catching in his beard and in her blonde hair. Dusting them both with white.   
And as he stared into her face, he did not feel the gelidity quite so much anymore.

“For you I would give my hand….  
For you I would take on a bear…..  
I would peacefully end sieges….  
I would betray my house….  
I would defy my sister…..  
For you I would face the Wights….  
I would throw rules to the wayside and bestow upon you a Knighthood….  
I would face my enemies.....  
I would own my sins.....  
I would answer to you as my Commander…..  
Swear my oath of fealty,   
Bend the knee and offer you my all.” 

Jaime ran his gloved hand through her cropped locks, needing her to hear him and believe.   
“If you call I will follow Brienne. And these are not hypotheticals - they already have been true and will continue to be so. Don’t leave me out in the cold. Give me warmth by the hearth of your heart.”

Removing his cloak, she lovingly wrapped it back around his quaking shoulders, drawing him to her and holding him steady, even though her voice was rocked by emotional tremors.   
“And I would…. gamble all I have to offer. My honour, my maidenhood and most reckless of all my love. Ser Jaime I have but three things to give and to you I have surrendered them all.”

“Them all?” He smiled as his heart soared. “You love me?”  
“Of course I do.”  
“Then why are we freezing our arses off out here when we could be warm beneath the furs? Why deny? Fear has been our ruler for too long. But it tried and tested us, to see what lengths we would go to for each other. We passed every test. Now we are free to trust, to love.”   
He was delighted by her expression, how it melted at his words. A reflection of the tender spirit which hid behind her monoliths of stone. “Come to me Jaime. All that I am, although not much is yours.”

It was nearly like a wedding. The snow the bridal white, the vows although rearranged and skewed just as sincere.   
He stretched up to kiss her then, to seal them, their lips almost making it a permanent reality when they stuck together from the cold.   
Using their tongues to pry themselves free, they could not help but chuckle, although Jaime was well and truly over the weather. “Let’s go inside my woman….” He beckoned. “….one night with you was never going to be enough.”


	9. Attracting Opposites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 6 already? I am having such a blast! Today's prompt is 'Gift Exchange'.  
This is a lengthy one-shot but it was fun to write. :)

Brienne cradled the large box carefully in her arms, balancing it gently upon one hip as she navigated the obstacle that was the closed door. She had gone to great pains to bundle up her gift, selecting the ideal box, tying the perfect ribbon… getting the timing just right.

In Westeros they celebrated the holy days of the Gods. Apart from Name Day’s these were the only occasions known to the lands where gift giving was necessary – within the appropriate designation of course.  
On Maiden’s Day you celebrated innocence and youth.  
On Mother’s Day the women who sacrificed of themselves to give life.  
On Father’s Day you respected the man whose lineage you prospered from.  
On Warrior’s Day you paid homage to the veterans and survivors of war.  
On the day of the Smith, labourers were given a day free from toil and on the day of the Crone the elderly were revered for their infinite knowledge and wisdom.  
But the Stranger remained the grim spectre – the one of whom you did not speak. Lest you wake him from the shadows and he be inspired to drag your soul back with him.  
So instead this day was placed aside as an opportunity to give thanks for those who lived.  
Upon Appreciation Day you selected a person whom you treasured, someone who graced your life and whom you wholeheartedly believed that the world would be a far more dismal place without. With this individual in mind you prepared a gift as a demonstration of your appreciation.  
For their friendship, for their presence, for their existence.  
To be chosen by someone close to you as the recipient of this blessing was considered an incredible honour. 

Often it was the same characters year after year who were bestowed with numerous tokens. The obvious choices becoming braggarts who pitted their hoards against each other in direct competition. To Brienne this act was in stark opposition to the deeper meaning of the day, desecrating a beautiful gesture that should have been treasured and revered.

This was only amplified by the fact that she had never received any presents. Family were by default banned from selecting each other and no outsiders had ever been keen to pay her compliments.  
Her one hope had been Podrick but the sweet lad had other ideas. He had shyly asked for her opinion - testing the waters if it were - on whether she thought it would be alright if he prepared a gift for his former master Lord Tyrion. “Many treat him like a monster My Lady Ser. I want him to know I don’t see him that way.”  
Brienne could only agree and encourage the kindness, though her heart had admittedly sank a little with the realisation that yet another year would go by without anyone seeing the merit in her. But the concept had made other possibilities spring forth….

Of comrades unappreciated. Of spirit’s whose worth went overlooked.  
And with this in mind she had ceased wallowing in self-pity and instead shifted her attentions to giving acknowledgement to a man whose many virtues most definitely went unremarked upon.  
Ser Jaime.

The masses spat his name and called him Kingslayer behind his back. Cursing him as an oathbreaker and worst variety of Knight. She herself had been included until she knew the real him.  
Jaime had sacrificed for her when they were held captive without a second thought. Confided in her the true tale of how he saved countless innocents. Jumped unarmed into a bear pit without fear for his own safety. And yet – all his heroics went unsung.  
He bore the slights with dignity, ignored the withering looks and continued to push on in accordance to his own private code of honour which could well outshine the many knights who dared to sneer in his presence. She marvelled at him and her world would most definitely be bleaker without his golden light. 

So perhaps there was a rosy hue that bathed all of his actions when viewed from her woman’s eyes. Tinged with the tint that only love could lend to a perspective.  
Her heart was only human, being cursed with a frightfully plain face has not left her immune to its beatings. And Jaime was her White Knight. He protected her and gave to her unaccompanied by excuses or aplomb. Oathkeeper was without a doubt the most priceless treasure anyone had ever bestowed upon her and Jaime gifted it to her solely because he wanted to. Therefore on this day, he was the person, whom she appreciated in her life. And she needed him to know it.

“Ser Jaime?” As she tentatively stuck her head through the door to his quarters, she heard a scuffle and the slamming of a door. A moment later Jaime sauntered into view, thumbs looped through his swordbelt and taking great pains to affect a casual demeanour. “Hello there Wench. To what do I owe the honour?”  
Brienne smiled shyly, knowing that showing her crooked teeth did little to improve her appearance. “It’s Appreciation Day.” Placing her back flat to the door, she ensured the box was kept stable as she edged her way in. “And I have a present for you.” 

“For me?” The humbleness in those two words and the way his eyes ignited were worth the weeks of brainstorming and indecision. With his one hand he held the door open, allowing her to pass into the sunlit room.  
“Yes – I chose you.” Her cheeks pinked at the admission and she wished her pigment didn’t betray her feelings so readily. The ivory white of her complexion making even the slightest blush all the more obvious. Fortunately for her, Jaime was in his gallant mode. Although she watched the temptation to tease flit across his mischievous face, he reigned it in - like a little boy afraid he may jeopardise his chances at securing the gift.  
“Can I offer you a seat?” 

“Ah no. I think it’s best if we sit on the floor.”  
His curiosity was palpable but he obligingly sat. Brienne slowly manoeuvred her way down, her ungainly size only made more cumbersome by the large box.  
“I would offer to help but that would mean taking the present….”  
“You will wait until I give it to you.” She huffed, scolding him like an impatient child, folding her legs and resting the gift upon her knees.  
With a jerking motion, the box suddenly lurched from her lap and she snatched at it with lightning speed. Jaime cocked his head to the side, studying it intently.  
Inhaling deeply she began. “It warrants an explanation.”  
“Alright.” She found it difficult to concentrate when he was smiling at her like that.  
“I had no idea what to get you. The obvious choices are swords and shields but you already have them in abundance. Besides you gave a sword to me – so returning the favour lacks any real imagination.”  
“I would have accepted it nonetheless.”  
“But you remind me of something. This something.” She gestured to the box, knowing she was being inarticulate. “As juvenile as that sounds….so I thought perhaps you may find some amusement in it.” Brienne shrugged. “You can have anything you desire Ser….”  
Her voice faltered as she realised the double meaning that statement implied, hastily adding. “…it makes choosing for you difficult.”  
Holding out the box, she offered it to him. “I appreciate you. I am happy you are in my life Jaime Lannister. You are the person I chose to give thanks for today.” 

He dropped his gaze, in an almost unassuming way and a warmth spread through her insides which she couldn’t explain. “It is the gesture I care about My Lady. Whatever is in the gift is just a welcome bonus.” Then the confidence reappeared. “But can I have it anyway?”  
“Go ahead.” 

She bit her lip in trepidation as he untied the ribbon, she had made the knot especially so it would unravel with the pull from just one hand. An old trick from the days she used to spend down by the docks, learning from the sailors in her childhood on Tarth. _This gift is infantile, what was I thinking? You are a stupid, dim-witted woman, he doesn’t want it… anymore than he would ever want you._

Jaime lifted the lid on the box and burst out laughing. However it was not in mockery, nor unkind – its distinctive cadence carefree and joyous and carried away upon its jubilant lilt she could imagine him as a strapping youth, unwrapping gifts upon his Name Day.  
“Well who are you?” He greeted its contents buoyantly and she tried not to cringe at her own unoriginality. Delving his strong left hand within, Jaime scooped out the mewling golden-haired feline, nestling it in the crook of his arm. 

“It is not just a common tabby.” Irrationally she felt the need to justify, to make her motives understood. “I searched for weeks to find the right combination. Golden fur just like a lion, with bright green eyes.”  
She could feel the flush returning to her cheeks as her speech hastened. “You have always reminded me of a cat Ser Jaime. You are quick on your feet, you never miss even the smallest tell from your opponent and you choose when to use your claws or retract them.” A sense of pride overwhelmed her that she knew him so well. That she could disclose these secrets about him that few had the privilege of knowing.  
“And-” She did a quick double check of the room to ensure they were alone. To be on the safer side she dropped her tone, in the Red Keep you could never trust that there wasn’t someone listening. “-His Grace King Tommen has quite the affinity with kittens. I can only assume that he inherited his caring trait for animals from somewhere…..”  
She left the inference hanging in the air. Brienne was one of the few people who had the truth of the boy King’s parentage. Sitting in front of her, hearing the implication, Jaime seemed to beam at even her hint of acknowledgment that the dear boy was in fact his son. “You can always regift the cat to him, if you do not wish to care for it. I wouldn’t mind.”  
“No!” Jaime grinned, holding the squirming creature aloft. “It’s mine. Tommen has enough kittens. My little lion cub is going to stay here with me.” Placing the cat gently on the floor beside him, he nodded at her deferentially. “Thank you, Brienne. For the thought and the effort. It means a lot.”  
“You are very welcome.”

She knew in advance when the devilish demeanour took over his expression that something vile was coming. “Does that mean you just gave me pussy?”  
“Shut up.” Brienne moved to extract herself from her sitting position when Jaime halted her.  
“Stop! Wait.” He rested his hand brazenly on her knee and her breath caught in her throat. “You’re not going to believe this. In fact I’m left speechless by how our thoughts often coincide – as unlikely as that would appear.”  
“How do you mean?” 

Jaime pushed himself up to his feet. “I chose you to be my Appreciation Day recipient.”  
“Really? You selected me?” The words came out in a gush. The years of hoping to one day receive this honour were only multiplied by the fact that it came from him.  
“Yes Wench. You startled me when you came in. I was… preparing your present shall we say.” He winked conspiratorially. “Not the easiest thing to do with one hand.”  
The cat roamed the floor, strutting around with a confidence like he already owned the room. Sauntering with the same self-assurance which she very much saw reflected in the gait of its new master. “I shall return.” Jaime promised, his leather surcoat billowing after him as he traipsed from the room. “And shut your eyes! I didn’t have time to wrap!”

Brienne had always been an obedient girl when she was younger. Sitting, waiting patiently whilst her Father arranged her presents. Age should have only further tempered the impulses to rebel and let eagerness win out. Now she earnestly wanted to comply - but the excitement had her crack one eye open, peeking through her lashes, as the anticipation mounted. 

Then she was ambushed. Leapt upon by an eager bundle of fur and gangling legs.  
She squealed despite herself as the puppy set upon her, licking up her face and cheeks with an unbiased, unconditional affection. Through vision obscured by flying ears and a large wet nose she spotted Jaime re-entering the room. Crossing his arms and looking exceedingly pleased with himself as Brienne struggled to catch the exuberant creature in her sinewy arms. 

Finally snaring the soft whelp, she ran her freckled hands over its velvety coat, tenderly examining oversized paws and drawing its warm body close. Bringing it up to under her chin where it continued to lick as it nuzzled into her neck. Something about it moved her, she wasn’t certain if the instinct was maternal or simply affectionate, but nonetheless she had to bravely banish the tears which threatened to form. Within she had the desire to give so much love but there had never been a recipient for her to lavish it upon. 

“Do you like him?” Jaime crouched beside her and she could only nod. Not trusting her voice which was infiltrated by emotion.  
Settling into position facing her, the Knight stretched out his corded legs, the supple deerskin of his breeches hugging his calves and reminding her that every part of him was indeed moulded by the hands of the Gods.  
Chivalrously ignoring her overcome state, in ways that only endeared him further, Jaime began to chatter idly. “I hope you don’t mind my saying but I too saw similarities between you and my gift.”  
“I cannot begin to conceive the reason.” Brienne ran her hands down the canine’s back, stroking it methodically. Trying to soothe it as it squirmed, wanting solely to play. “A puppy is appealing and friendly. Two things we both know I am not.”  
“True as that may be…” She snorted with mirth at his agreement, somehow on a deep intrinsic level knowing it was not with malicious intent. _When did I learn to tell the difference?_  
“…. there are still likenesses. You are loyal Brienne. Almost to a fault. You follow your chosen person around, you make a great guard, you are docile enough except when provoked or until someone you care about is threatened.” He leant over to ruffle the fur on the whelp’s head. “Just like this pup your legs are two long for your body and if you saw the argument I had with it when I needed to close it in that room, you would know you are equally stubborn.”  
The Maid of Tarth’s arms loosened around the small creature, rigidity sapped by Jaime’s honeyed words. Her oversized mouth stretching into a broad smile as for a few blessed minutes she forgot all about her crooked teeth. The puppy leapt from her lap, zealously scampering about the room, keen to sniff and explore. 

That was when the Golden Knight did something unthinkable. He edged impossibly closer, his emerald eyes focussed and shining with an emotion she only wished she could identify as he brought his hand gently up to her cheek, skimming his thumb over the gnarled flesh of her bite scars.  
“Dogs see with their hearts.” He whispered. “They do not discriminate and judge the way that humans do…. Your pup will see you for the beauty that is within. The kind, gentle and incredible person that you truly are. Not judging you on your appearance but adoring you for who you are on the inside.” Jaime swallowed, his voice growing thicker, the timbre infused with sincerity. She found herself leaning into his touch, clinging to his every syllable. “It will love you Brienne, the way you deserve to be loved. The way I lov-“ 

Shrill barking made them both jump with a start as the puppy tore through the room in hot pursuit of the cat. Its yapping intensifying as it attempted to bail the feline up in a corner. With a hiss and narrowly missed swipe the lightning quick kitten evaded its captor, streaking across the chamber with the pup on its tail. Curling up the rug, knocking over furniture and breaking a vase in the process. 

Brienne cringed and internally mourned the moment she and Jaime were sharing. Their intimacy shattered as quickly as the fallen ceramic. Knowing she would turn the scene over and over in her head in the hours and days to come, trying to piece together the end of his phrase that went unspoken.  
Unperturbed, the Knight sat back and grinned, watching the antics of the rampage with amusement. “What do you know Wench? They are like us.”


	10. I Give To You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Gift Exchange' Continues  
(Even though they were written separately -  
I do wonder whether this story is perhaps the sequel to 'Attracting Opposites' that I didn't officially plan)
> 
> Hugs to each commenter and reader!  
You have no idea how excited I get to think other people are sharing in my little prompted stories.  
Right now JB Week is becoming one of my new favourite holidays! LOL

Brienne paced the hall outside his chambers, her thoughts a muddle of confusion and concern.  
_I should have been more careful, he will be angry with me. Why now? Just to destroy what we have…._

The door swung open with a flourish and Jaime grinned at her in his fiendish way. “A very Happy Warrior’s Day to you mighty swordswench – couldn’t wait to see what I got for you hey?”  
Upon his outstretched palm he presented her with dagger, the hilt encrusted with sapphires, gleaming in polished gold.  
The supple leather sheath protecting his one good hand from the blade. 

_Seven Hells! It’s Warrior’s Day!_  
Her mind had been so preoccupied, the sacred occasion had arrived without her knowing.  
"Thank you.” The words were poorly articulated as she raced to cover her lapse. “It’s beautiful.”  
Slipping it into her belt, she frantically felt upon her person for something to gift him in return. 

_ _ Jaime watched her, arching an eyebrow. “You forgot.” He ushered her into his room, chuckling with bemusement.  
“I’m sorry.” She breathed. _All I should be doing is apologising._ “It came up quite suddenly.”___ _

_ _ _ She looked about his room as she entered, her vision remembering phantoms of themselves in recent weeks.  
Kissing pressed against the wooden doorframe, fumbling to turn the key in the lock. Insistent hands grabbing and pulling, at fastenings and laces, divesting them of their clothes and modesty. Tangled upon his bed in a lover’s embrace, becoming one entity. _ _ _

_ _ _ “It’s alright.” He nudged her playfully. “I forgive you. I have no choice! You are armed with my sword and dagger and here I am with naught but my charm. Nonetheless, I am past my prime anyway.” The lion perched on the foot of the bed, eyeing her up and down. “You on the other hand are at the peak of your strength. The Warrior’s female incarnate. It only makes sense if I celebrate you.” _ _ _

__ “Don’t say that.” She shook her head, tears forming in her eyes.  
_The only thing he has to admire about me is my prowess and soon that will be put to the wayside._  
He cocked his head. “Whyever not?”  
Brienne took a deep shuddering breath and braced herself for the onslaught of reprisal. “I’m pregnant.” 

“My Lady….” His voice was raw, all joking and pretence falling away. “….. you tricked me.”  
_There it is, his fury, his outrage._ A rogue tear streaked down her cheek but she forced herself to hold his gaze. __

__

_ _ _ Rising, he crossed the distance to her in two long strides, cupping her face in his hands and swiping away the wet trail left in its wake.  
His face awash with tender emotion in a way she could never have hoped possible. “You did bring me a gift – the most precious thing you possibly could. A warrior child to call our own.” He kissed her lovingly, tears of joy swimming in his emeralds as they stood beaming at one another._ _ _


	11. Waking Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt is 'New Year/Hope'
> 
> Here we are....last day of participating in my first JB Week. I can't believe we are here already!  
So I think in celebration I wrote more tales for this prompt than for any other, lol.  
I will kick us off with the longest.... (I may have been overtired, but I nearly cried writing this one).

“It will be grand!” Sansa chatted excitedly as her ladies fussed and primped, pulling her shining auburn hair into an elaborate upstyle. “There will be fire jugglers, dancers from Essos and at midnight…..” The youthful Lady sighed, her pale blue eyes taking on a faraway look. “Isn’t it romantic? Wondering who will come to claim you, seeking you out solely to place a kiss upon your lips.”

Brienne was glad to see that the many atrocities the young woman had witnessed hadn’t dampened her enthusiasm for tales of love and chivalry. She shifted from foot to foot in her position, standing at guard, armour grating against itself. The whole New Year’s festivities sounded like a nightmare to an awkward mule like her.  
“Lady Brienne?” Her charge swivelled around in place on her padded stool, glistening earrings being clipped into place. “Aren’t you in the least bit excited?”  
“Of course My Lady. It sounds as though everyone will have a wonderous time.” Her tone was flat, yet she tried to provide reassurance. She didn’t wish to take away from anyone else’s exuberance. 

Sansa alighted from her seat, walking over and standing on tiptoes to deliver a swift peck on her friend’s cheek. “I have given you the night off. You should go and dress. You won’t want to miss the start of the festivities.”  
The warrior Maid responded with a tight smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

* * *

Alone in her chambers, Brienne pulled the thick tapestry of the curtains over the window, keen to shutter out the bouncing firelight and noisy revelry below.  
She was dressed plainly in her nightshift, ready to fall into bed. Guttering out her candle, the room was plunged into darkness as she crawled between the covers.  
She could silence the world outside but she couldn’t hush her nagging thoughts. 

_Another year…._  
For fairer women this night brimmed with promise. For her just another opportunity to become a spectacle and a laughingstock. Nothing about celebrating the passing of time seemed appealing to Brienne.  
Another year – where she continued to carry the title of Maid, somewhat mockingly because no man would ever desire her.  
Another year – where time marched across her face and further destroyed looks which were never comely in the first place.  
Another year – where her fertility would decrease and her odds of ever bearing children disappeared into dust.  
Another year – for her Father to hound her relentlessly about settling down with whatever dregs of society with the smallest claim to a title he could find. Someone desperate enough to accept Tarth as a dowry to incentivise the gods awful task of wedding and bedding her.  
Another year – for her to watch other younger Maiden’s flourish, being loved and feeling special. Experiencing all the treasures of life which she had come to accept she would never know. 

_I’m sorry Sansa if my absence disappoints you but I feel it is founded. _  
She could not attend observing all the happy couples, the Ladies in their finery and the graceful dancing, whilst she stood to the side alone. Feeling frightful in a gown which would never flatter her manly figure. Spectating as the Lord’s and Knights scrambled at midnight, to secure a kiss from the woman they desired, knowing it would never in a thousand years be her.  
Not that she’d want them – lackwits and blackhearts the lot of them. All had mocked her at one time or another. Made her to feel a fool and like the most hideous creature in the world.  
_No, I’m happier here, asleep. When I wake it will all be over. Just another day._

Only one face kept floating in her mind. _Jaime. _  
She wished she could stop picturing him, it only made her heart ache.  
He was free now. Pardoned for his crimes. Dismissed from the Kingsguard. Released from his twin’s stranglehold with her untimely death.  
Lord Lannister. Warden of the West and the richest liege in Westeros. The world was now at his fingertips.  
They were enemies once. Then begrudging allies. Then comrades. Finally friends.  
She dreaded how that would change when he embraced his own duty and took a wife.  
It was all the female half of the court discussed. Even one-handed and slightly silvered with age he was still far too good-looking. His easy smiles could turn even the most frigid maiden’s insides to liquid molten.  
He was resisting of course, balking and dismissing any enquiries as to his marital status. His brother needled him about it endlessly. 

When it all became too much, it was her that Jaime sought. A fact which she treasured, though she would never confide that to him.  
The lion approached her when he needed to speak to someone who kept him grounded or wouldn’t humour him due to ulterior motive.  
He sought her counsel and regardless of protestation actually valued her opinion. But mainly he just needed her to listen whilst he complained.  
“Who’d have thought Wench?” He had said to her a couple nights ago. “I would dub you my favourite conversationalist. The world truly has turned on its head.”  
“I am so very blessed.” She had responded sardonically, rolling her big blue eyes. “What did I ever do to deserve such honours as to having to hear you prattle on about yourself day after day.”  
“Well it is my favourite topic.”  
“Not mine.”  
At that he laughed warmly and to her the sound was more joyous than any mirth she could imagine.

_I must stop this._ She reprimanded herself harshly. __  
_It is the start of a New Year and he knows his responsibilities. Most likely he will be selecting his bride tonight._  
Brienne tried to ignore the fracturing feeling that thought caused to reverberate through her heart.__

_ _ __ _ _

Sleep was broken and patchy.  
Now and then a particularly loud cheer or applause from the festivities below would penetrate the Keep’s stone walls and disturb her slumber.  
Then she would have to begin the self-soothing process all over again, forcing her overwrought mind to forget her troubles.  
It remained difficult, the sole happy place that lulled her into slumber was memories of time spent with Jaime.  
Sparring in the yard, bickering as they polished their twin blades, that time in the baths at Harrenhal….  
_This is dangerous. You must stop. You are only hurting yourself further.___

______ _Will he invite me to the wedding? Who will he choose? Will he move to Casterly Rock?___  
_Don’t be ridiculous - most certainly he will, it is his ancestral home.___  
_Perhaps I can visit – if the Lady of the House allows it. I should like to see his eventual children, I bet they will be beautiful….___  
Tears drenched her pillow until it was soaked through but the exhaustion of the sobbing made her fall back to sleep.

She dreamt of mockery and scorn. People pointing and shouting. Children’s faces shielded from her hideousness.  
“I am not a monster…” She implored. “Just because I am ugly does not mean I cannot feel your slights.”  
It did little to quell their cruelty but it did make the men laugh louder at her expense.  
In her dream, she tried not to cry. _Do not let them see your tears…..___  
But in the distance, through the tormentors and the jeers she saw a Sept, where a dashing lion dressed in a crimson doublet escorted his young bride into a waiting carriage.  
The smile she knew so well, crinkling his emerald eyes at the corners as he beheld his new wife.  
Then large salt droplets fell unbidden, rolling down her scarred and freckled cheeks to soak the collar of her jerkin…..

__

______ “Brienne…”  
The honeyed sound of his voice seemed more like it belonged in a dream world than in reality -  
but the sensation of his warm hand nudging her shoulder, pulled her back to the present in her darkened bedchamber.  
Blinking the sleep from her eyes, she made out Jaime’s silhouette, his outline framed against the shifting reflection of firelight spilling through the cracks in her drapes.  
The merriment of the gathering beyond the windows providing a reminder of the significance of the evening.

______ Sitting halfway up, she swiftly brought her hands to her face, swiping the residue of drying tears from her cheeks.  
“Ser Jaime –“ Her speech was thick and slightly slurred from slumber. “What are you doing here?”  
“You weren’t at the celebrations, so I came to find you.”  
Brienne looked about confused. “My door was locked….”  
His teeth gleamed in a wolfish smile. “And the staffers who keep the spare keys are all quite drunk by now.”

______ She shook her head, none of it was making sense. “Why go to such lengths to find me? You will see me tomorrow.”  
“Because it’s midnight.” Even in the dimly lit room, his green eyes sparked. A beacon of life and faintest hope which she was drawn to, as surely as a moth to a candle.  
“And I needed to give you this….” He leaned in, pressing his impossibly perfect mouth to hers, lingering with their lips entwined.  
An exemplary gentleman, only taking what was proper but his hand caressing her cheek and thumb teasing her bottom lip spoke of greater wants, hidden just beneath the surface.  
Reluctantly he pulled away and she felt herself following, not wishing to break the contact.  
Mercifully he left his hand in place, stroking her skin in ways that awakened dormant yearnings, buried for years beneath layers of resignation and despair. 

_ _ _ “Happy New Year My Lady.” Jaime breathed. “I hope my actions have not been too bold or caused any offence.”  
His eyes searched hers for answers, as she struggled to hear his words over her hammering heartbeat. “But I had to come. Start as you intend to proceed they say and I honestly want to spend the New Year with the woman I love. With you.” A touch of timidity, flashed across the face of the usually confident lion Lord. “And many years thereafter if you wish it.”_ _ _

_ _ _ Muscular arms – still ungainly and too long - were thrown ardently around his neck. Tears pouring anew, following in the tracks of their predecessors.  
But these were formed in happiness. “I will love you Jaime.” She promised, drawing him closer, offering her parted lips to his. “More than any other woman ever could, I will love you.” _ _ _

Their second kiss was transcendental and anything but chaste, as they valiantly destroyed any erroneous misgivings that either may have ever viewed the other in a platonic light.  
A demonstration of mutual longing, manifesting as an outpouring, enveloping their new lover in the surety of their devotion.  
For the tally of kisses, Brienne quickly lost count, enrapt in a new realm where desire and reality collided.  
An end to her aching, heralding a new beginning and the celebrations outside could never compare to that which her chamber witnessed in the hours that followed. 


	12. Traditions & Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'New Year and Hope' Provided me with quite a bit of inspiration.  
This ficlet takes place in Book Canon, sometime after they resolve those unfortunate dealings with Lady Stoneheart. :)

“From one friend to another, may your New Year be peaceful, prosperous and plentiful.”  
Brienne smiled warmly at Septon Meribald. “What is that?” She queried, taking the older man’s offered hand and grasping it in a firm shake.  
The tavern was bursting with drunken revellers as it passed the midnight hour and she had been pleased to find a familiar face amongst the crowd.  
“An old local blessing.” He explained. “Now you pass it on.”

Removing her glove and grinning broadly, she turned to the golden man beside her, repeating the phrase and extending her hand out for him to take.  
The lion eyed it coolly and made no attempt to move. She tried not to flinch as an invisible barb pierced her chest. “Ser Jaime?”  
“Is that what I am to you? Your friend?” His lips curled unhappily around the title and the joy melted from her face when he added. “I suppose we have never been defined.” 

Dropping her hand listlessly to her side, she made a study of the crumb littered floor.  
_Of course he would never admit to being friends with the likes of me._ It hurt more than she cared to admit.  
“What would you rather refer to me as My Lord? Enemy? Comrade? Travelling companion?” __

The urgency of his hand gripping her upper arm, made her unconsciously raise her head.  
His smaragdine orbs smouldering with sincerity as they stared into her own. “Wife.”  
Her legs buckled from shock and had his hold on her not been firm she would have tumbled to the floorboards.  
“And we should not be shaking hands we should be…” 

_ _ His lips crashed upon hers before he finished the sentence._ _


	13. Granted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My second last 'New Year/Hope' Ficlet  
(When I started writing this one I thought 'just a short drabble' then it ended up longer than my previous ficlet! lol)

“This is silly.”  
“Come on Brienne, it’s just a game. Make a wish, write it down, set it to float.” He raised his eyebrows at the scowling woman before him. “You don’t have to commit your name to it, no one will ever know it was you.”  
“Did you do it?”  
“You know writing is not my strong point and that was before I lost my hand.” Leaning closer he whispered conspiratorially. “You never know – it may come true.”  
Rolling her large azure marbles at him, she bent over the small scrap of parchment.  
“Don’t look.” She warned, shielding the script with her hulking frame.

The small pool rippled beneath the night air whilst she scribed, small votive candles set waltzing amidst tiny carved wooden boats upon its surface. Each one carrying with it the hopes and dreams of its author. Dedicated to the New Year in the smallest chance the Gods may witness and their aspirations became reality.  
Jaime watched the warrior goddess before him – he did not need to put ink to paper to know the fondest desires of his heart.  
She stood right before him, in living untouchable colour.  
_If only…..___

_ __ _

“There.” Brienne pushed the tiny vessel onto the pond, carrying its precious scroll. “Now come – surely there are more important things to attend to.”  
He pretended to follow her, waiting until her blonde head disappeared amidst the crowd before doubling back. Reaching out and snaring her boat from the water.  
He knew it was devious but he had to know. Jaime would give her anything, do whatever he could – simply to bask in her rare and glorious smile. 

Unfurling its contents, his breath caught as he read the short message, plainly writ in her neat scrawl.  
_**I wish for Jaime Lannister to love me – as I love him.**__****_

_ ** ** ** ** _

_ ** ** __ ** ** _

_ ** **** ** _

“Ser Jaime…” Brienne’s voice was birdsong on a dew dappled morn, a thunderclap amidst a springtime storm, her tenor somehow pitched to vibrate to the unique frequency of his pulse. He spun to face her, the precious note still clutched between forefinger and thumb. Too euphoric to consider concealing his guilt.  
Fortunately, the fates favoured his love-fuelled meddling, his interference in her wish’s voyage going unnoticed, as her steady gaze was trained upon his face.  
"I thought you were behind me - " She was the paragon of caring, eyes wide and sincere as she approached. “You look somewhat distant….are you quite well?”  
In the crowded room there was none other but her. 

“My Lady….” He smiled – his expression a muddle of bewilderment, enchantment and disbelief. “My wish just came true.”


	14. Tasting Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My finale for JB Week 2019.  
For the prompt 'New Year/Hope'

Brienne woke with a gasp, sitting up in the small earthen hut, glancing around frantically at the disarray.  
Items of clothing were discarded to the floor or hanging haphazardously off the limited furnishings which were somehow overturned.  
She brought her large hands to her head as a stab of pain lanced through her brain. _What went on here?___

_Eerie tribal chanting filled the night air as they sat crossed legged in a circle. _  
_Brienne balanced awkwardly on her too small cushion, attempting to keep her balance, not wanting to interrupt the ceremony.___  
_Jaime caught her by the arm as she teetered, offering her a supportive smile. “Shi Halooun.” She addressed the elder who toddled around the fire, preparing some kind of elixir. “Are you sure this will help us find Lady Sansa?”___  
_“Yes, yes, daughter of educated man.” He spoke in his esoteric way, the only one capable of communicating in broken common tongue. “To drink of the Pipri Nantak on the eve of the New Year will propel you to that which you desire most.” He handed them both a rustic wooden cup and nodded his encouragement. The incantations reached a crescendo as they brought the arcane draught to their lips and swallowed.___

_ __ _

Sunlight streaking through the woven walls of the shelter made her wince.  
She moved to push herself off the edge of the mound of straw and fabric, when her hand instead contacted an ankle.  
Her blood ran cold. _I haven’t looked behind me…..___  
Jaime lay spread eagle on the makeshift bed, breathing deeply, edging upon a snore. Her eyes were wild and her pallor ashen when she processed that he was naked and she grabbed her tunic from the floor and tossed it over his exposed manhood. A knee-jerk reaction but a mistake, as it roused him from slumber.  
His eyes flew open and he quickly shielded them with his left hand, rubbing his temple with his thumb. “What did those sneaky fuckers give us?”  
“I don’t know.” Brienne mumbled, distracted by her own appearance. She wore Jaime’s surcoat, which did not in any way fasten at the front.  
Wrapping it tightly around herself, she shut her eyes and wracked her brain for recollection.

_“Is this official?” Her voice was lilting and giggly, in such a way she would not recognise it as her own had it not fallen from her lips._  
_“Heart tree, Sept – it’s all the same really. Who cares? I love you and that’s all that matters.” ___  
_They fell to their knees in front of the carved white face._  
_“Then I am yours….” Brienne folded her arms around Jaime’s neck, as they bumped noses and traded incandescent smiles. “….and you are mine.”_  
_His grip tightened around her waist as he finished the vows. “With this kiss I pledge my love.” Their mouths melded in an inelegant display of primal want and seasons of repressed desire let loose in a single moment._

_ __ _

Somehow her lips still tingled at the recollection. So much so, that she was certain it had been reality.  
_Sensation of an intensity like that cannot be residual of a dream._  
Lifting her left-hand she observed a band encircling her ring finger. Dried vines and twigs interwoven to form a perfect circle.  
She raised it high in disbelief. “Jaime?”  
“What do you know?” He said quite cheerily, brandishing his own, a mirror reflection of hers. “I have one too.”

_Her first time was hunger and passion, two bodies colliding in adoration and want.___  
_ Layers of clothing being flung right and left as the pesky garments kept them from pleasuring each other.___  
_They tripped over the furniture in the dark, sending them both tumbling to the bed. The mattress beneath her was scratchy and blades of straw pierced through to poke at her back but she didn’t care – she only wanted Jaime. “Maybe we should wait….” Her new husband was caring, even though his enthusiasm for her pressed against her thigh. “The accommodations are quite sub-par.” Brienne's tone was breathy, as she crooned to him. “We have wasted years….” She sucked at his bottom lip and crushed bruising kisses upon his chin. “…. just come here and claim me.” He didn’t need further persuading._

A blush engulfed her cheeks as every detail of the previous evening came back to her in living colour.  
_That which I desire most…. But that means the feelings are mutual._  
Jaime smirked, watching the crimson spread down her neck and fan out across her chest. “Happy New Year wife.”__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I conclude this set of one-shots, all I can say is how much I have enjoyed every minute of being part of  
JB Appreciation Week. It was so much fun.  
Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who took the time to comment and read these tales.  
You inspire me and keep me going.  
I adore writing almost as much as I adore Jaime & Brienne, so being a part of this beautiful shipper community is truly wonderful. Hugs to all! <3 Madelyn


End file.
